


dashing through the snow

by funvee



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Compilation, DECFANFIC, M/M, Modern AU, Prompt Challenge, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funvee/pseuds/funvee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my compilation of all the fic prompts for December Fanfic Challenge. Each day will have it's own chapter. The list for prompts is located <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/decfanfic/profile#rules">here</a>. All will probably be modern AU, and all will probably be OT3. I will try my best to hit a word count of around 1,000 for each prompt!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice Skating

"No, I really don't think I want to..." Athos said, backing away from the entrance to the ice. The skates they'd strapped to his feet made him wobble as he walked, and he almost tripped on someone's discarded sneakers as he took another step back. He recovered with a wild wave of his arms, eyes going wide as he righted himself.

"But it's fun!" Aramis persuaded. He was having no issues at all with his skates -- he'd slipped them onto his feet and done up the laces with no issues at all. Even when he'd pulled himself up onto his feet, he remained completely upright without any balance issues at all.

Athos hated him a little.

"It doesn't look like fun. It looks like a concussion waiting to happen," Athos murmured, staring at the people who were already out on the ice, skating in lazy circles.

"You think we'd let you fall?" Porthos asked, sounding incredulous. He'd had a hard time finding a pair of skates that fit him -- the rental clerk had brought him pair after pair until one managed to fit around the massive socks he'd put on to guard his ankles. Other than that, though, no issues. He'd hopped right up onto the blades like he'd be born wearing them.

Athos hated him too.

"It's not an issue of you allowing me to fall..." Athos started, turning back to look at his men. They were standing side by side wearing equally hopeful expressions -- as if they had just asked him for a puppy or something equally ridiculous.

"Then what's the issue?" Porthos asked, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Athos with a rather impatient look.

"Look -- you two go ahead and I'll just wait for you back here," Athos offered, waving one of his gloved hands towards the ice and then back towards the benches along the side of the ice. He'd be perfectly safe back here -- he could take the stupid skates off and just enjoy the chill in the December air. He could even watch Aramis and Porthos circle around the rink.

"Okay, what's really bugging you?" Porthos asked, looking genuinely concerned. He moved closer to him, and Athos wished he could disappear instead of having to look at Porthos with that expression on his face. Aramis clued back into the conversation, his face shifting from excitement to worry.

Athos shook his head. "Nothing. Just don't want to skate," He offered, with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. Lying. He was lying. His stomach twisted in his abdomen.

Porthos gave him a look. Why on earth was Athos friends with these two again? And why could Porthos read him like an open book? He shifted carefully onto his other foot. The skates sent him wobbling again -- he recovered without the arm wave this time.

"No -- you don't get to get out of this that easy. It's just ice skating and we won't let you fall, I promise. ...At least _try_ it?" Porthos said, practically pleading with him.

Athos stared at Porthos, and then turned to stare at Aramis. They both were back to their hopeful expressions from before. Athos knew then, at that moment, he was going to end up out on the ice with them. He let out a sigh.

" _Fine_."

Aramis let out the least dignified "Whoop!" he'd ever heard and darted forward to grab Athos's hand. "C'mon, c'mon. We'll put you between us and we can pull you forward," Aramis said, nodding to Porthos. Porthos took Athos's other hand and started towards the ice.

Athos felt his stomach drop somewhere near his feet. He followed in between them, letting their hands anchor him. Aramis stepped out onto the rink and gently coaxed him to follow.

Athos put one skate out onto the ice, clinging to Aramis's hand. The second skate followed and he was out next to Aramis. Athos stared at the bright white ice underneath his feet, swaying back and forth on his skates. Aramis gently righted him, fixing him with a bright white smile.

Why was he here again? Whose idea had this been?

Porthos practically jumped onto the ice, sliding up next to Athos and squeezing his hand.

"Alright, let's go or the people behind us will start complaining," Porthos said, starting forward. Aramis followed at the same pace, both of them holding onto Athos like he was something breakable. Athos felt himself jerk forward with their movement. He knew, knew without a doubt that neither one of them would let him fall if they could help it. He knew that, but couldn't shake the feeling of being unstable between them.

They made it one circuit around the rink without any incident. There was no wobbling, no tripping or falling. They continued to guide him, holding his hand without any indication of letting go. Athos felt himself relax slightly.

They were halfway around the rink again before Porthos asked, "How y'doing?" He glanced sideways at Athos.

"I think...I think I'm okay," Athos answered, blue eyes turning onto Porthos. He _was_ doing okay. They weren't going too fast, and they hadn't let him go, even for an instant. He wasn't ready to go out on his own, or anything, but it was starting to be more entertaining than anxiety inducing. "But don't let go!" Athos added. Porthos laughed and squeezed his hand again.

"Wasn't going to. We promised we wouldn't let you fall and we don't make promises we can't keep," Porthos said, laughter bubbling through his voice.

"You're doing well, my friend," Aramis broke in, smiling.

Athos flashed him an incredulous look.

"As well as to be expected, I meant," Aramis corrected, with a laugh.

They went around the rink a few more times before Athos started to notice an ache in his ankles. The skates were digging in, and quickly becoming very uncomfortable. Not to mention the temperature was starting to drop -- the sun was sinking slowly behind the horizon, taking away its warmth.

"Can we stop soon?" Athos asked, teeth clacking together as he shivered. They'd dressed warmly, but they'd been out on the ice for a while and they _were_ outside.

"Hot chocolate _does_ sound good," Aramis commented, glancing across Athos to look at Porthos. "Direct us to the nearest exit, please sir," He added, grinning.

Porthos nodded and gently coaxed them to the side of the rink, where there was an opening back onto dry land. He exited first, with absolutely no problems. He turned, holding his arms out to Athos.

Athos took a step off the ice. His skate remaining on the ice did not stay still like he thought it would. It slipped forward and Athos flailed his arms, trying to right himself on the foot on dry land. He overbalanced and the skate slipped away, sending his legs out from under him.

Two sets of hands grabbed at him, righting him before his ass met ice.

"Careful," Aramis said, voice screwed up with what Athos thought was laughter. He squinted at him and sure enough -- Aramis was shaking with the effort of trying not to laugh. Athos turned and looked at Porthos, who was biting the inside of his cheek.

Athos appreciated the effort they were going to, but he knew he had probably looked ridiculous. "Just laugh, will you?" He asked, carefully unclenching his hands from their jackets.

They met each other's eyes and a small giggle escaped from Aramis. The first leak broke the dam and they burst into laughter as they carefully guided him to a bench.

Athos took his skates off to the sounds of his friends nearly suffocating from laughter.

 


	2. Mistletoe

They were at the precinct's annual holiday party. Only Aramis wanted to be there -- Porthos and Athos would have much rather stayed at home and curled up on the couch with the offical "couch blanket." They could have been watching something halfway decent, warm against one another. Aramis, however, had helped decorate for the party and thus, wanted to actually go to the damn thing.

Porthos was stuck by the food tables, clutching a red cup full of whiskey and Coke. He sipped at it regularly, stopping every now and then to add more whiskey to the mix. Basically, it was more whiskey than Coke at this point, and he didn't care.

Aramis was the life of the party, _of course_. He was bouncing around the room, smiling and talking with everyone who paid him even the slightest bit of attention. Porthos frowned into his cup whenever Aramis's flirty smile made an appearance. He knew he didn't do it on purpose -- the three of them had been exclusive to one another for about a year now, and Aramis would never ever cheat on them. He was just...jealous. He could admit that.

Athos was standing to Porthos's side, somewhat behind him. Porthos checked on him regularly, glancing over his shoulder to be sure Athos hadn't died of boredom or something.

d'Artagnan flittered over, standing in front of Porthos. He was grinning and holding a cup in his right hand. He sipped at whatever was in it. "Having a good time over here?" He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"No," Porthos admitted, with a shrug.

d'Artagnan's smile slipped away. "Oh. Why not?" He asked over the rim of his cup.

Porthos jutted his chin in Aramis's direction. He was hanging onto a man's shoulder, cheeks flushed pink with the heat of the room. There were too many bodies and the furnace was turned up way too high for a party of this sort. d'Artagnan followed the movement and caught sight of Aramis. He snorted and frowned.

"So go get him?" d'Artagnan asked, like this was the obvious solution.

"Nah, he's havin' fun. He'll come back to us when he's ready," Porthos answered, raising his own red cup back to his lips. Athos snorted from behind him, but he didn't say anything.

d'Artagnan made a face and bounced away from Porthos. Porthos watched him as he moved up beside Aramis and said something to him. He couldn't hear what was said, but he saw Aramis's face turn in his direction. Porthos shot a glare at d'Artagnan but waved a hand at Aramis.

Aramis flashed a smile and moved towards back towards him. d'Artagnan trotted behind him.

They pulled up short though, as Aramis spotted something on the ceiling. He pointed at it, and turned to d'Artagnan, who looked like he'd seen a ghost. Porthos followed the line of Aramis's finger and saw what had turned d'Artagnan a ghastly shade of white.

There was a small sprig of mistletoe hanging from a blood red ribbon.

A bark of laughter escaped from his lips.

"What's so funny?" Athos asked from behind him.

Porthos turned and pointed at the ceiling. "d'Art and Aramis are under the mistletoe," He answered, still laughing. "d'Art looks like he wants to sink into the floor," Porthos added, doubling over as laughter shook through him.

Athos raised an eyebrow and stood from the chair he'd been folded into. "I need to see this," He murmured, coming up beside Porthos and leaning gently into his shoulder. Porthos took the weight without thinking.

Aramis was talking to d'Artagnan, but they couldn't hear anything that was being said over the din of the party. Porthos concentrated on Aramis's body language -- the way he leaned towards d'Artagnan, the way his hands moved as he spoke.

"He's trying to convince d'Art they have to kiss," Porthos said, turning his head to speak into Athos's hair. He agreed with a grunt. Porthos pressed a kiss to the crown of Athos's head and turned back to the scene at hand.

d'Artagnan was looking at Aramis like he was asking him to cut his own hand off.

"Just kiss 'im, d'Art!" Porthos said, raising his voice to be heard over the roar and the faint holiday music that was being pumped through speakers. People stopped talking to watch what was going on.

d'Artagnan stared at him, eyes as round as coins. "You want me to kiss your boyfriend?" He asked, disbelieving.

"It's mistletoe rules!" Porthos called, laughing again. Athos snorted next to him.

d'Artagnan once again looked as if he wished he could disappear -- he was looking almost anywhere other than Aramis. In front of him, Aramis was beaming, a bright white wide smile plastered across his face. Porthos knew he was enjoying torturing the young boy -- which made this all worth it.

Porthos watched as Aramis whispered something else to the boy, and he could see the moment that d'Artagnan finally gave in. He let out an exasperated sigh before he turned his face towards Aramis.

Aramis raised a hand to d'Artagnan's jaw, leaned in and pressed the most chaste kiss Porthos had ever seen him give against his lips. It could barely be classified as a kiss by Aramis's standards, but it would be weird to insist upon a better one, considering that Aramis was in a relationship with both him and Athos.

Porthos let out a wolf-whistle once they pulled away from one another -- he wasn't missing the chance to embarrass the newbie. d'Artagnan turned a hilariously bright pink and ducked away from Aramis almost immediately. He scattered back towards Constance, who had missed the whole exchange while she was talking with Treville. She lit up as d'Artagnan appeared next to her. He rubbed a hand at his mouth as she spoke to him.

"Was that to your liking, then?" Aramis asked, as he approached them. He was still wearing the smile from before, but it shifted into a rather proud smirk as he walked closer.

"You've done better," Porthos murmured in response, shrugging.

Aramis pressed a hand to his heart. "You hurt me," He said, a hint of laughter sneaking through his voice.

"Please -- that wasn't even a kiss," Athos broke in, bringing his cup back up to his lips and taking a heathy drink from its contents.

"Well, I didn't want to scar the boy," Aramis responded, chuckling. "Plus -- didn't want to make you two jealous," He added, winking.

Athos stared at him, slowly shaking his head. Porthos rolled his eyes, seized hold of Aramis's sleeve and pulled him against his chest.

"Who gets jealous?" Porthos asked, grinning down at him.

Aramis fixed him with a knowing look.

Porthos quickly cut off any answer by sealing his mouth against Aramis's in a kiss that fit the definition much better than the one before. Aramis melted against him, only pulling away when he absolutely had to breathe.

Athos cleared his throat at them.

"Oh, did you want in on this?" Porthos asked, a wicked grin tugging at his mouth.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Athos answered.

"Too bad," Aramis said, grabbing Athos by the front of his shirt and yanking him closer. He kissed him slowly, waiting for Athos to open to him. It wasn't long before Athos gave in, returning the kiss with just as much fervor. He grabbed a fistful of Aramis's jacket, and hauled him even closer.

"Much better," Porthos commented, eyes dark as he watched them kiss.

Aramis pulled away from Athos, grinning.

"Glad you think so."

 


	3. Watching Christmas Specials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These idiots make me smile.

It was freezing in the house, which wasn't exactly surprising to Athos. He was pretty sure that Aramis did it on purpose when the weather got cold so he had a decent excuse to curl up next to whoever was on the couch for warmth. Athos didn't really mind it when he was on the recieving end of the snuggles, though he usually pretended that it bothered him. Just to keep up appearances.

Athos folded himself into the middle of the couch, with the thick couch blanket doubled up and thrown over him. He'd tucked under his chin to keep in the warmth. He'd dived onto the couch the moment he'd gotten home -- it had been a long day at work and he had no intentions of getting up again unless absolutely necessary. He'd spend the night right here on the middle cushion if he was allowed to. They'd bought the damn thing for comfort, not looks, thus it was really rather ugly but probably the most comfortable piece of furniture in the house.

He fumbled for the remote -- it was on the far arm of the couch and just barely out of his reach. He stretched his arm and fingers toward it, finally knocking it onto the cushions beside him. He yanked it into his blanket nest, carefully pointing it out from underneath one of the edges.

It didn't take long for him to figure out there was almost nothing on tv. Reality show, singing show, show about fishing, ancient rerun, next, next, next. Athos huffed out a sigh hit the forward button a few times. A familiar tune tinkled out of the speakers, and Athos settled back into the softness of the couch. He could handle watching this.

"ARE YOU WATCHING RUDOLPH?" Aramis shouted through the house as he slid on stocking feet into the living room. The grin on his lips was blinding.

"Obviously," Athos answered, a small smile slipping onto his face. He couldn't help it -- the childlike joy seeping off Aramis was almost infectious. He flipped back the blanket and gave Aramis an inviting look.

Aramis slid onto the couch and pressed himself right up against Athos, slipping his hands under Athos's sweater and pressing cold fingers against his warm skin. Athos immediately squirmed away from him, but Aramis followed, laughing. They wrestled for a few seconds -- Aramis still trying to shove his hands under Athos's clothes while Athos tried to remove Aramis's hands from his sweater.

The wrestling match ended with Athos half on top of Aramis, holding his arms above his head with one hand. Aramis could have broken away if he chose, but didn't. Athos moved back to his original spot on the couch after a moment. Aramis followed.

"Your. Hands. Are. _Freezing_ ," Athos whisper-shouted, getting one hand out from the tangle of the blanket and shoving Aramis away.

"It's _cold_!" Aramis complained, moving right up against Athos again. He kept his hands to himself this time around, and simply pressed himself into Athos's side. That was fine. Athos could handle that. It was the frigid fingers against his skin that he had a problem with.

"It's _your_ fault its cold in here," Athos murmured after a minute. Once Aramis was settled, Athos relaxed next to him. It was much warmer this way. "You're the one who messes with the thermostat."

Aramis chewed on his lip, looking thoughtful. "If it's too warm, then I get hot next to you and Porthos," He answered, with a shrug.

"So turn it down when you want to be near us but keep it warm when you're not?" Athos responded, giving Aramis a disbelieving look. Seriously -- it was like living in an icebox most of the time. He could handle the cold better than Aramis, but even he'd resorted to dressing in layers as of late.

"Shhh, I want to watch Rudolph," Aramis whispered, flapping a hand at Athos. He'd bring up the thermostat later, maybe. If he remembered and still cared.

"Someone say Rudolph?" Porthos asked as he peeked around the corner. They both peered over the couch at their boyfriend. Porthos was bundled up in a thick navy blue sweater that hugged his form in the nicest of ways. Athos found himself staring just a little. Aramis waved him over, grin bright on his face.

Porthos made his way to them, and it wasn't long before he'd deposited himself in the middle of the couch, his long arms wrapped around them both.

The official couch blanket was draped over all three of their laps, tucked under their feet and covering their arms. It was a huge fleece blanket they'd had made special for their couch. Aramis had picked out the pattern himself -- it was a dark green blanket covered in little black silhouettes of deer. Athos didn't get it, but it was warm and soft and that was all that mattered.

Porthos pulled them both closer to him, and Athos was very pleased. Any chill that had been locked into his bones was quite pleasantly fading away the longer he leaned against the larger man. Porthos was the warmest of any of them -- Aramis called him a space heater on more than one occassion, and there didn't seem to be any falsehood in the title.

They quieted down and watched the special together, while Aramis murmured all the lines under his breath. Porthos knocked him on the head when it became annoying, but it didn't stop Aramis from continuing to whisper everything, even the songs.

Athos was warm and comfortable beside Porthos, and it wasn't long before his head started to nod and his eyelids started to droop. The exhaustion from the long day at work was starting to take over. Before he even noticed, Athos was asleep against Porthos's shoulder.

By the time the credits started, Porthos's head had lolled back onto the cushion behind him, arms still tight around his men. Aramis was only barely awake, the light of the television reflecting off his eyes as he watched the words scroll up the television screen. Once the commericals started, Aramis tucked his head against Porthos and closed his eyes.

They could sleep here for tonight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am [on tumblr](http://drclairefraser.tumblr.com/)


	4. A Snowball Fight

Porthos couldn't feel his toes. They'd been outside for longer than he'd thought they'd be, but they were having so much fun it seemed almost rude to surrender to the cold. And anyway -- it had been his idea to play in he snow.

It had come down heavily the night before -- he'd sat in the window for hours, watching it as it fell, sparkling, to the ground. There was something about snow that was still magical to him, and he'd indured teasing from Aramis for hours in order to enjoy the sight. The other two didn't quite understand his obsession with the stuff -- Aramis thought it was cold and wet, and Athos didn't appear to have any thoughts about it at all.

When they'd woken up the next day, it had taken about two hours before Porthos demanded that they go out and enjoy the stuff.

Athos had pretended to be above it, turning his nose up at the idea of stomping around in the solid foot of snow that had been dumped overnight. At one pleading look of Porthos's, though, Athos had given in and gone to dress for the weather. Aramis had been all for it once he'd seen Porthos's face -- they'd taken care to bundle him up in sweaters and scarves, with one of Porthos's old jackets over everything to keep him warm. They'd heard enough of Aramis's griping about being cold over the years to know that it wouldn't take long before he started shivering out in the snow.

For the first hour and a half, they'd made a sad looking snowman that ended up leaning rather precariously to the left. It had one of Athos's hats on, one of Aramis's scarves and arms made out of sickly looking tree branches. It wasn't the prettiest snowman to ever grace their yard, but Porthos was strangely proud of it all the same.

He pushed mismatching buttons into the snowman's face for eyes and took a step back to admire their complete work.

"Porthos!" Aramis shouted from across the yard. He whipped around to face him, a curious expression over his features. Aramis's arm pulled back, and a second or two later, a wet ball of snow splattered itself in the middle of Porthos's chest.

Porthos stared at the wet spot on his jacket and then looked up at Aramis, who quickly darted behind Athos, who had been watching Porthos.

"No, you threw it, you face the consequences," Athos murmured, bending at the waist and gathering a palm full of snow, before turning at the last minute and dumping it on Aramis's head.

A wordless anguished yell rang through the yard as the snow dripped down the back of Aramis's coat.

All hell broke loose.

Aramis grabbed snow and shot it towards Athos, who had jumped away to hide behind their snowman. The projectile collided with the head of the snowman sending it leaning way towards the right. A suspicious sound emerged from behind the snowman -- Athos was cackling. Aramis tried to hit him again, and this time was more successful.

The snowball hit Athos square in the face.

Porthos burst out laughing, doubling over. He grabbed snow with his thickly gloved hands and shot it towards Aramis. He missed by a mile, but Aramis turned to glare at him, wet hair dripping onto his face. Aramis packed snow into a ball and a second later, it hit him in the shoulder.

Porthos shot a look at Athos, grinning at him. Wordlessly, they agreed. In the same movement, they both threw snowballs at Aramis, teaming up to even the odds.

Snow flew in every direction, splattering against faces and chests and backs as they ran away from one another. Aramis had the best aim -- as long as they didn't dart away at the last minute. His snowballs tended to hit exactly where he wanted them, which was usualy right in the face. Athos was better than Porthos -- he actually managed to hit Aramis more often than not.

Porthos's cheeks were bright red with the cold, and the collar of his shirt was soaking with frigid melting snow. Aramis looked thoroughly miserable -- his hair was wet, along with most of his scarves. Athos, surprisingly enough, looked as if he was having the time of his life, despite the fact that the tip of his nose was a shocking pink.

"I'm done, I'm done, done, _done_ ," Aramis shouted, stomping towards the door. He was shivering as he moved, wrapping his arms around himself as he made his way towards the shoveled sidewalk. He turned and glared at his men. "I'm going inside. To make hot chocolate. For _myself_ ," Aramis added as he started to unwind a scarf from around his neck.

"Make us some, too!" Porthos said, grinning.

"No!" Aramis answered, turning on his heel and disappearing into the house. The door slammed behind him, the glass rattling in its frame.

"He's a sore loser," Athos answered, coming up to stand next to Porthos. They all were _well_ aware of this trait of Aramis's -- they saw it every time they played anything that involved competition. Aramis had to win or he turned into a grumpy mess for the span of about an hour.

"Oh, he'll be sore alright," Porthos grumbled, shaking his head.

Athos said nothing but stretched up onto his toes next to Porthos, squishing a handful of mostly melted snow onto the top of his head. He lept away before Porthos could properly react, chasing after Aramis as he ran inside for safety.

Porthos was left standing in the yard with cold snow dripping down onto his face and neck.

By time he made his way inside, Aramis had shed all his wet clothes and burrowed into the blanket on the couch. Porthos could see just the mess of curls on his head from under the edge of the fleece.

There was a pile of jackets, scarves, gloves and boots at the front door. Porthos rolled his eyes at the sight, but added his things to the mountain instead of doing anything about the mess.

He stalked into the kitchen, coming up behind Athos, who was shoving two mugs full of water into the microwave. Porthos waited until they were safely on the glass rotater inside before he slipped his hands inside Athos's sweater and pressed frigid fingers along his spine.

"Aghhh!!!" Athos shouted, twisting on the spot to get away from Porthos's hands. Porthos grinned down at him.

"Waaaarm," He intoned, grabbing hold of Athos by the waist and tugging him closer into a tight bear hug. He kept his hands on Athos's skin until they regained feeling. Only then did he remove them from inside Athos's sweater.

"Why do you two insist upon putting your cold hands on me?" Athos said, strangled. His face was mushed against Porthos's chest.

"You're easiest to subdue?" Porthos answered, laughing. Athos felt the vibrations of it against his cheek.

Athos grumbled and said, "And I was going to make you hot chocolate...."

"Who says you can't still?" Porthos asked, releasing Athos from his hug.

Athos glared at him as the microwave beeped behind him. He turned, pressed the release button and the door popped open into his hand. Grabbing the two handles, Athos carefully handed one to Porthos. "You can make it yourself. It's a packet -- it's not hard," Athos said, pushing one of the packets towards Porthos on the counter with his free hand.

They made their hot chocolate silently, shoulders bumping together whenever they moved. Sipping at his chocolate, Porthos turned and looked at Athos.

"Thank you," He whispered, raising his mug to him.

Athos nodded at him, quiet.

"PORTHOSSSS," Aramis shouted from the couch. "I'm _COLD_."

Porthos and Athos met each other's eyes again and together, they sighed.

 


	5. Overly bundled up for the weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely not the best thing I've written but I don't feel super well today so I apologize.

"It's a tree, Aramis. Just pick one so we can go home," Athos said, his words muffled behind the scarf that's wrapped tightly around his mouth. It was beyond frigid outside -- snow was steadily falling down on them as they wandered through the tree lot. It had been about an hour since they'd arrived, and they were no closer to buying a tree for their living room.

Aramis had demanded that they buy a real tree this year and Porthos hadn't argued with him, despite all the work that came with a live one. He'd only had a real tree twice in his life -- the orphanage hadn't had the money to buy a new one every year. It was only when someone gave a tree to the organization that the house was graced with a live tree. All other years, they ended up with a scraggly, ancient, artifical one.

Athos, on the other hand, was fine with whatever kind of tree they ended up using. The fake one in the attic or a real one. As long as he didn't end up cleaning up all the pine needles that would spread throughout the entire. (He knew he'd end up cleaning them up no matter what the other two promised.) He'd grown up with a huge fake tree, professionally decorated to the nines. He hadn't been allowed to touch it.

"It has to be _exactly_ the right size, Athos," Aramis answered, keen brown eyes scanning the rows of trees. He bounced ahead of them, seemingly unaware of the chill in the air as he did so. It wasn't like him -- he hadn't complained once about the cold, despite how long they'd been out in it.

Even Porthos was huddled over in his parka, hat pulled down low over his ears. The wind was whipping through the trees, ripping right through their coats. He huddled closer to Athos, opening his arms and pulling him closer. Athos burrowed back against Porthos, welcome to have the break from the wind.

Aramis disappeared around a corner. "C'mon, he'll want us to follow him," Porthos sighed, untangling his arms from around Athos. He let his hand fall down to his side and grabbed hold of Athos's mittened hand. Athos squeezed his hand in his and followed as Porthos moved after their other boyfriend.

"Why must he drag us around the lot for hours? Isn't one tree just as good as any other?" Athos asked, tilting his head towards Porthos so he could be heard over the wind.   
  
"You know him -- he thinks there's a perfect tree out there. So we'll follow him around until he finds what he thinks is the tree. Which will probably be one of the first trees we saw," Porthos answered, only a little frustrated. His fingers were starting to go numb at the tips and the wind was stinging his eyes. He hoped Aramis would wind this up soon.

They turned the corner and saw Aramis staring up at a tree that was much, _much_ too big for their house. They had ten foot ceilings in their living room, but that didn't mean they needed a ten foot tree. They had to be able to get it into the house and their door was _definitely_ not large enough to get this green monstrosity through it.

Porthos came up beside Aramis, looked at the tree and then looked at him. He repeated the action, and then shook his head. "It's too big, Aramis," He said, chewing on his lip.

Aramis ignored him. "It's _perfect_ ," He said, a slightly crazed smile taking over his face.

"We're in a relationship with an insane person," Athos mumbled under his breath. The wind ran away with his words -- only Porthos caught them. He laughed and shot a warning look to Athos.

"Too big," Porthos repeated, using his free hand to grab hold of Aramis's. He tried to pull him away, towards the other row where the trees were slightly smaller. Aramis tugged his hand free of Porthos and planted his feet at the base of the giant tree.

"Nope. This one. We're getting this one," Aramis said, looking up with an obsessive sort of glee.

Porthos let out whoosh of breath and shook his head slowly. This was going to take a while, he could tell. Aramis wasn't going to back down easily, but damn Porthos was going to try. "No -- It's way too big. Pick out a different one, will you? And hurry. I think Athos is freezing solid," he murmured, nodding towards Athos, who had a death grip on Porthos's hand.

"This one!" Aramis said, again. He waved an arm at the tree before turning and looking at his men. Athos was huddled against Porthos's side, and Porthos was carefully rearranging his own scarf around his face. They were frozen around the edges, bits of snow sticking to their coats as it blew in whirlwinds around their feet.

Porthos was, quite frankly, shocked that Aramis wasn't right up against his other side, shivering. The only thing about him that looked properly cold was his bright red nose.

"How are we going to get it home, babe?" Porthos asked, very close to just giving in. When it didn't fit, Aramis was the one who would have to deal with the consequences. Porthos wasn't going to drive it back to the lot. He absolutely wasn't.

He wrapped an arm around Athos and tried to tuck him into his jacket. He was pretty sure the temperature had dropped considerably since they'd been out. He was ready to be done. They both were.

"I think they deliver?" Aramis said, standing on his toes to read the sign up at the front of the lot. "Yeah. They have big trucks for that," Aramis added, turning to beam at Porthos. "Problem solved."

"We're not paying for another tree if this one doesn't fit. You can put it in the backyard and we'll use the fake tree inside," Porthos responded, surrendering. If Aramis wanted a huge tree, _fine_. They'd get the huge tree and only be able to decorate the bottom half of it. It would be ridiculous looking, but Aramis would be happy.

And they would be inside, where it was warm.

"Okay!" Aramis exclaimed, jumping towards Porthos and Athos and pressing a kiss on Porthos's cheek. "I'll go get the teller," He said, leaping away before Porthos or Athos could say anything else.

"You're such a softie," Athos murmured, turning his face into Porthos's chest to hide from the cold.

"You try tellin' him no!" Porthos answered, looking down at Athos and poking him in the side with a thickly gloved finger.

"I do. All the time. Believe it or not, it does nothing."

Porthos laughed, shaking his head. They couldn't tell Aramis no. Not without repercussions that they both despised.

Aramis came back with the teller in tow. They paid for the ridiculous tree with the promise that it would be delivered by tomorrow afternoon. (Porthos had winced audibly when he read off the price. The things they did for love.) Once the tree had been paid for, Aramis stole the keys from Porthos's pocket and declared that he was driving home.

Neither one of them argued with him.

When they got home, Porthos and Athos tried to defrost under the couch blanket. Aramis was too busy gathering the boxes full of ornaments to join them, though he took the time to pause and kiss them both each time he brought back another box.

Porthos and Athos stayed under the blanket until all the boxes were brought up from the basement. Only then did Aramis join them, sneaking in on Porthos's other side and tucking his feet into the corner of the couch. He stared up at ceiling, obviously trying to invision the tree in the space he'd cleared.

"We might have to rearrange tomorrow," Aramis murmured, squinting.

"Nope," Porthos answered, without looking up from the television screen. They'd turned it on about half an hour ago once they'd gotten bored of watching Aramis with boxes. "You wanted the tree, _you_ deal with it."

" _But_..!"

"Not helping!"

 


	6. Planning a Holiday Party

Athos had grown up hating parties. His family had thrown the prototypical upper crust parties all the time. His parents had expected him to be silent unless spoken to, not touch anything breakable and to not be under foot. Parties were not associated with fun, in Athos's brain. So when both Porthos and Aramis had come to him with round eyes and their hands clasped in front of their chests, begging to let them throw a party...well, Athos had thought about saying no. The word had been mostly formed in his mouth when he realized that any party thrown by these two would hardly be like the parties he'd been accustomed to.

"How many people?" Athos asked, voice boardering on exasperated. They must have known how he'd react -- they were hanging on his every word.

"Probably about....twenty-five? Treville, d'Artagnan and Constance, Ninon, Anne and Louis, Alice, Flea maybe, uh..." Porthos rattled off most of their friends, screwing up his face as he tried to think of who else would get an invitation.

"My sisters and their husbands," Aramis piped in, with a small smile. Porthos pointed at him, and added their number to his mental talley.

Athos watched them with an amused look. "That's hardly twenty-five," He said.

"So...just those people, then. Nothing big," Porthos amended, shrugging. He turned pleading eyes onto Athos. "You wouldn't even have to do anything -- Aramis and me could do everything."

Atho huffed out a dramatic sigh. He'd already decided to let them have their party. It would probably stress him out until it was the day of and the people arrived. But he'd do his best to help them -- they deserved to have their party after everything of his they dealt with. "Fine," Athos answered, looking away to hide the small smile that had appeared on his lips.

Porthos let out a huge booming laugh and clapped his hands in celebration while Aramis simply jumped forward and squeezed Athos into a bone crushing hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Aramis shouted, pressing rushed kisses to Athos's cheeks.

Athos pushed him away gently, nodding. "You're welcome. You two are cleaning everything the day of -- I'm not cleaning. I hate cleaning," Athos murmured, making a face.

In the days before the party, Athos was left mostly alone as the other two buzzed around the house like bees, hurrying to decorate and clean the house. He spent the time on the couch, catching up on books he'd been meaning to read. He did rise from his spot on the right cushion to help Aramis with a garland he was trying to hang from the ceiling, and to help Porthos center picture frames on a wall. All in all, though, he hadn't done much to help.

Which was why, on the day of the party, he rose early from their bed and vowed to help them with whatever they needed that day. He wasn't looking forward to the amount of people they'd have in their house later that evening, but they were all people he knew and was friends with. It wasn't like strangers would be stomping through his hallways. He could...maybe handle it. For a little while, at least.

And if he couldn't, well, the party was in their house and he could go hide in their bedroom. It wasn't like anyone would miss him.

Porthos emerged from their bedroom not too long after he did, sleepily running his hands through his hair and down his face.

"I gotta start the turkey," Porthos yawned, scuffing his feet to the fridge to haul the massive bird off the top shelf. He lifted it like it was nothing and set it down on the counter.

Athos watched as he cleaned it, spiced it, and got it ready for the oven. He started the coffee pot as he stared, settling near the machine with an empty mug in hand. Porthos did everything he could to the turkey, all in his pajama pants and one of Aramis's old stretched out shirts. He shoved the turkey into the oven, turned and yawned into his fist. Once the yawn disapated, Porthos came and reached behind Athos to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Today's gonna be a long day," Porthos murmued over the lip of his cup.

"You're the one who wanted to throw a party, don't look at me," Athos said, tipping the last few drops of coffee into his mouth. He let Porthos see him smile, though. "What do you need done, now?"

"Gotta make the food," Porthos answered, pouring more coffee into his mouth. "But don't...help with that. Please," Porthos added, raising his eyebrows. Athos burned all the food he tried to cook -- the other two only let him near the coffee maker in the kitchen.

Athos shook his head. "No, definitely not," he murmured, setting the dirty mug upside down in the sink.

"You can...uh...." Porthos scrunched his nose up. "I have no idea, babe, I think we've got everything else done..." Porthos shrugged, taking another drink from his coffee. "If I think of something, I'll let you know, alright?"

Athos nodded in answer and meandered into the living room. He took up his usual spot on the couch and opened the book he'd been reading to the page he'd left off on.

The anxiety didn't come until he looked up to see the house completely decked out for the party. People were coming. There were going to be people in his house. He'd be expected to talk to them, to join in conversations. He'd have to pretend like he was comfortable with this. Athos kept his breathing calm, but his mind was running off track.

It wasn't long before the sun had dipped down beyond the horizon, and both Porthos and Aramis were running around finishing up last minute touches for the party. Athos ended up doing nothing, despite his original wish to help. They told him to stay where he was, that they didn't need any assistance with anything. It was a good thing they hadn't needed help -- his hands shook whenever he took them off his book.

In the half an hour before their guests were supposed to arrive, the rushed busyness of the house came to a stand still. Aramis and Porthos sat down next to him and wrapped their arms around his shoulders.

"It'll be fine," Porthos murmured, leaning his head on top of Athos's. A large brown hand covered one of his on the edge of his book. Porthos's skin was warm and comforting in a way that forced him to relax.

"If you want, you can just...hide," Aramis offered from his other side. He laughing but turned his head to press a kiss to Athos's cheek. Athos accepted it, grateful.

"Thank you for the permission," Athos answered, smiling shakily.

Porthos smiled at him, nodding. Athos turned and looked at Aramis, who beamed at him.

What had he done to deserve them both? It was certainly nothing in this life.

They sat together quietly until the doorbell rang.


	7. Putting up the stockings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling slightly better about this one.

"I never had a stocking growing up -- my mother thought they were tacky," Athos murmured as he stuck his hand back in the green tubby Aramis had lugged up earlier. They were supposed to be decorating the house, but they'd gotten slightly distracted by the heat eminating from the fire in the grate. Athos was sitting directly in front of it, his back burning deliciously.

He pulled on a hideous fake velvet stocking out of the tubby and laid it across his lap. His name was glitterglued across the white fold over bit -- he assumed it had been Aramis's handiwork. He certainly hadn't penned his name on the stocking, and the letters were too curly to be Porthos's handwriting.

"What did Santa leave you gifts in, then?" Aramis asked, from his spot that was mostly under the guarantuan tree he'd insisted they buy. There was a tubby tipped on its side to his right, christmas things spilling out of it. He was piecing together a paper garland that had ripped with scotch tape.

"Under the tree?" Athos answered, as if this was obvious. Truth be told -- Santa had only dropped gifts under the tree for a few years before his parents had decided it was a silly tradition to keep up with. The number of presents he'd gotten hadn't decreased at all, though. The name Santa had just disappeared from the gift tags.

"We had stockings, but we didn't really get gifts too often? Mostly candy," Porthos broke in with a shrug. He was sprawled out on the couch, lazily untangling lights from themselves. He had a long string already done, hanging off the edge of the couch and into yet another tubby.

Athos frowned as he looked down at his lap. He'd gotten almost too many presents growing up -- his room had been overfilled with books and toys that he'd almost never played with. He twisted and reached up to hook his stocking on the nail Aramis had carefully placed in the mantle. It swung slightly once he let it go.

"Well, you'll get gifts this year, at least," Aramis piped in, looking up from his tape job to beam at Porthos. Porthos glanced at Aramis and smiled before going throwing himself back at the task of untangling.

Athos quietly wondered where Aramis got all of his holiday spirit. Was it because he'd grown up in a large family? A large religious family? Or was it just because he liked sparkly decorations and the chance to show people how much he loved them? Athos rather thought it was a combination of both. He supposed it also explained his own lack of spirit. His parents viewed Christmas as a necessary evil -- they'd hired people to decorate the house, they threw giant parties and invited important people. Christmas had been a duty, not a cause for celebration.

He turned back to the tub and dived back in, coming out with two other stockings, Porthos and Aramis's names both glitterglued across the top.

"Why glitter, Aramis?" Athos asked, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at the stockings. It was such an Aramis thing, to use puffy glittery glue to put their names on the stockings. His mother would have had them embroidered, if she had allowed such things as stockings in her house. Glitter would have absolutely been forbidden.

"It's festive," was Aramis's reply, a bright grin appearing from under the tree.

Athos blinked at him, but twisted again and stuck the remaining stockings on the two other nails. They swung, Porthos's hitting him in the head once he faced the room again. He ducked away from it, scooting outwards so he wasn't close enough for it to brush his hair.

He tugged the green plastic box closer to him, and peered into it. There were plastic snowmen tucked into one corner, a string of red shiny beads all coiled up in another. A santa hat was crumpled up in the center, and there were all other assortments of decorations jumbled into the mess. Athos pushed the tubby away -- he could see nothing that was absolutely necessary to pull out at the moment. If Aramis wanted something from it, he could dig for it himself.

"What now?" Athos asked, letting his hands fall onto his knees. He did better with direction when it came to helping decorate. On his own, everything would have remained in the boxes.

Aramis finished placing a piece of tape before he looked up and checked Athos's work with the stockings. Not like it had been hard or anything, but still, Aramis smiled. He looked around the room, seeing the other things that needed doing, but when he returned his gaze onto Athos, he merely said, "You can....go put the pizza in the oven."

"You sure about that?" Porthos asked, laughing.

"It's not like he's _making_ the pizza, love. He's just putting it in the oven," Aramis answered, making a face at Porthos. He turned back to Athos and added, "Make sure you put a timer on it -- and check the temperature on the box twice. I don't want to eat charcoal again."

Athos huffed out what might have been called a laugh and nodded. He rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen. Checking the listed temperature on the box exactly twice as asked, he pushed the buttons on the oven's face and waited for it to preheat.

They were _not_ going to eat charcoal tonight. He was sure of that.

 


	8. Decorating the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis is a jerk.

They'd finally managed to get the tree inside the house after about three hours of struggling. They'd had to take the front door off its hinges, and move the table in the hallway into the dining room. There was a lot of wiggling involved, a lot of cussing and glaring at Aramis, who had been holding the top of tree as he moved backwards into the living room. Aramis either couldn't see the dirty looks Athos and Porthos shot him, or he was choosing to ignore them. It had been _his_ decision to buy the ginormous tree and thus, it was _his_ fault they were having a hard time getting into the spot he'd also picked out.

But they managed, with some extreme difficulties. It was now sitting in the stand in the corner of the living room, looking perfectly harmless.

Porthos rubbed his hands together, trying to soothe the ache and scratches he'd recieved while hauling the damn thing into the house. Aramis was circling the tree as best as he could, smoothing out branches and trying to fluff it up into something that looked perfect. Athos was sitting on the couch, watching it all with an amused expression. Just as he'd promised -- he hadn't helped carry it into the house. He had, however, moved furniture out of the way. He'd moved it all back, too, after the tree was placed.

"Doesn't it have to sit for a day before you put anything on it?" Porthos asked, plopping down on the opposite end of the couch from Athos. He still was massaging his hands, looking down at them whenever they started to ache again. There were faint scratches along the back of them, bleeding slowly.

"Does it?" Aramis asked, looking surprised. He peeked out from behind a branch. "We never waited when I was growing up. But that might have been because my parents couldn't deal with us begging...."

Athos snorted. "I don't think it matters, Porthos," He added, shoving his toes under Porthos's thigh. Porthos raised his eyebrows at him, but ultimately didn't move his feet.

"Go ahead and start then, babe," Porthos offered, leaning back against the couch cushions. "I'll help in a minute. My hands hurt," he waved the offending appendages at him. Aramis frowned, looking rather concerned. "I'll be fine," Porthos added, forcing a smile. Aramis either didn't notice it was a fake smile, or decided not to press the issue.

"I'll...help, I suppose," Athos said as he pulled himself to his feet. He left Porthos on the couch and made his way to Aramis's side.

"You can...put the garland up," Aramis ordered, with a huge smile on his face. This was his element. He was good at this, this being holiday spirit and decorating. Porthos watched him boss their boyfriend around, looking more and more amused as Athos did what he was told without question.

"I can't reach anymore," Athos admitted. He was standing on the tips of his toes, reaching up towards the middle of the tree. Porthos knew this would be a problem. The tree was so freakishly large that they were going to end up with only half of it actually decorated. The half they could reach.

Aramis took a few steps backward to look up at the work they'd done. The shiny gold garland reached about exactly the middle of the tree. The lights reached a little further up, mostly because Aramis had been halfheartedly throwing them up higher than his arms could go.

"You boys need help?" Porthos asked, smirking from the couch. He really wasn't that much taller than both of them, maybe a couple of inches, at best. _But_ it might just be enough to help them reach more of the tree.

"Oh, get over here," Aramis whined, stomping his socked foot on the plush carpet.

Porthos granted his wish, sauntering over to join the two of them. He took the strand of lights from Aramis's hands and carefully placed it up a few branches higher than what he'd originally had it.

Together, they managed to get about three-fourths of the tree decorated. The tip top of the tree remained slightly bent against the ceiling, but it was declared _good enough_ by Aramis. It wasn't like they could have put anything on as a tree topper anyway -- the tree was too tall for the room, just as Porthos had thought it would be.

_But_ there was no arguing with Aramis. He'd gotten the tree he'd wanted and now it was decorated. Or at least, three fourths of it was lit and garlanded. They still had to pull out the ornaments and stick them on the branches.

Porthos stared at the tree from his spot, studying the height and the complete lack of decoration on the upper portion. It really looked stupid like that, and not in a homey sort of way, either. It just looked...bad. They had to come up with some way to get at least _something_ up there. Even if it was just the lights or garland. He glanced at Athos, who was picking at his sweater, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. It hit Porthos suddenly, like a freight train.

"Wait," Porthos said, as Aramis bent in half over a green tubby to start handing out ornaments. He peered over the edge to look at Porthos. "I have an idea," He added, grinning wildly.

"What?" Aramis asked, suddenly sounding a bit wary. He narrowed his eyes at Porthos, one hand holding a giant green christmas ornament.

"I can pick one of you up and you can reach higher..." Porthos offered, the grin still very much present on his face. He wiggled his fingers at Aramis.

"That sounds like an accident waiting to happen," Athos offered, glancing up from his own chest to stare at Porthos.

"And you just volunteered to be the one I pick up," Porthos murmured, grinning. He stepped towards Athos, who immediately took a step backwards, holding his hands up in front of him.

"No. No, no, no. I am not, no," Athos said, eyes wide.

Aramis stood and watched, a smile growing on his lips. "But _Athos_ , look at the tree -- it looks so...empty without ornaments up there," He waved a hand towards the top of the tree. Athos followed its movements and shook his head.

"C'mon, I won't drop you. You know I won't," Porthos persuaded, giving Athos his best puppy-dog look.

Athos appeared to be internally debating with himself. He stared at Aramis's wide-eyed look and then turned to stare at Porthos. He huffed out a sigh and then moved closer to Porthos.

"Fine, pick me up," Athos said, sounding very much like he'd literally rather be anywhere else.

Porthos hauled him up onto his shoulders with surprising ease, holding onto Athos's legs as they hung down his front. Athos blinked once he was up -- he hadn't realized exactly how easy it would be for Porthos to carry him.

"Alright, now start moving stuff upwards..." Porthos instructed, his large hands keeping Athos steady by his grip on his thighs.

Slowly but surely, Athos managed to move the garland and lights up enough that the tree was wholly lit and decorated. The thought that it was was easy passed through his mind, which of course, meant something had to go wrong.

Athos reached towards the top right of the tree, stretching the limits of his arm. He overbalanced in one moment, dropping the plastic ornament he'd been holding. It fell to the floor, bounced and went rolling towards the hallway. Athos flailed his arms trying to regain his seat on Porthos's shoulders, but it was impossible.

Porthos figured out what was going on too late -- he tried to help Athos by grabbing at his thighs, but there was nothing he could do. Athos went head first off his back, falling to the floor with an ungainly thump.

Thankfully, all he'd landed on were some throw pillows and the soft carpet.

Aramis watched all of this happen with wide, horrified eyes. Once Athos landed, however, he had to choke back laughter. This was not a time for laughing, he had to remind himself. Athos might be hurt.

"I thought you said you wouldn't let me fall," Athos grumbled, not moving from his landing spot on the floor. Porthos looked properly admonished, making an apologetic face.

"Sorry, babe. But you....you reached too far. Should've told me to move..." Porthos offered, falling to the floor to sit down by Athos's head. "You okay? Didn't break nothing, did you?" he added, laying a hand on Athos's forehead, pushing back his hair to pet him.

"M'fine," Athos answered, closing his eyes. In truth, his back hurt, and his head felt like it had bounced against the floor, but nothing was broken. He knew that much. "That feels good," He added, a small smile playing about his lips.

"You should have seen your _face_ ," Aramis all but shouted, scooting closer to look down at Athos. Laughter was bubbling through him, escaping through his mouth. He'd tried so hard to not laugh, but he couldn't keep it back. It just kept coming, a giggle fit taking over his entire body.

Athos flopped his hand around on the ground, grabbing at what he hoped was a throw pillow and in the same movement, chucked it at Aramis's head.

It hit him straight in the face.

 

 


	9. Ruining the holiday dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more...ruining a dinner instead of a holiday one. Oops.

"Check the potatoes, willl you, love?" Aramis asked from the opposite side of the kitchen.

Porthos removed the lid and peered into the pot, poking a wooden spoon at one of the chunks inside. It didn't even make a dent in the side -- he replaced the lid and turned to Aramis.

"Not even remotely done," Porthos answered, smiling. They were supposed to be making dinner. "Supposed to" being the key phrase there -- there was very little cooking being done, mostly because Aramis was having a very hard time keeping his hands off Porthos.

The aforementioned man scrunched his nose up and crossed the kitchen in two long steps to slip long fingered hands into Porthos's back pockets. Porthos shifted, wrapping an arm around Aramis's waist.

"Should I turn the heat up so they boil faster?" Porthos asked, looking directly down into Aramis's big brown eyes. He was greeted with a low mischevious smile that slowly spread across kissable lips. He bent the last few inches and pressed a kiss against Aramis's mouth.

Aramis stretched up into the touch, reaching an arm up to wrap around Porthos's neck and drag him down closer. He pulled away after a moment. "Turn them up a bit or we'll be here all night," Aramis whispered into Porthos's mouth. He didn't move away or remove his arm, so Porthos was left flailing an arm backward and patting around for the knob to turn the stove up.

Aramis yanked him back down for another scorching kiss, nipping him on the bottom lip before pulling away to grin up at him. Porthos shook his head -- Aramis was insufferable when he wanted something, and right now it was apparent that he wanted Porthos. He closed the space between them once more, licking into Aramis's mouth without a pause. A soft noise slipped out from between their lips, repeated again when Porthos brought a hand up to cup Aramis's jaw.

They kissed in the middle of the kitchen with not a care in the world for their surroundings. Not that anyone currently in their house would actually mind -- Athos probably would have just quietly stood to the side until they noticed, and then one of them would have kissed him so he could be a part of the fun.

That is if the things cooking in the kitchen weren't all slowly becoming inedible.

\------

Athos entered the kitchen, nose in the air. Something was burning. Possibly many somethings, now that he saw the reason things were burning. He looked beyond his two boyfriends to the stove, where more than one pot was boiling over. He squeezed behind Porthos and Aramis to turn the stove down. He prodded a finger into Porthos's back.

"You burned whatever that was...potatoes, I think?" Athos said, glancing back over to the pot. There were vaguely potato shaped things inside.

He huffed out a sigh when all the recognition he got was a squirm away from his finger. _Figured_. They were too busy wrapped up in each other to notice anything else. The kitchen probably could have caught fire and burned the ground, and they still would have been connected at the mouth.

Athos moved around them to stick his head into the oven -- the turkey was looking...like a turkey, actually. How did one tell when a turkey was done? Athos was not a cook. Not in the slightest. He had actually been banned from the kitchen by Porthos. He'd managed to burn a frozen pizza into a pizza pan so thoroughly that they'd just ended up throwing the whole thing out. No one wanted him to cook anymore, and he was perfectly alright with that.

But now his boyfriends were too busy playing tonsil hockey to notice that he was left to do all the cooking.

"Hello?" Athos asked, from his spot by the oven. He tried again, his voice louder this time, " _Hello_?"

Aramis let out a moan and brought a leg up to wrap around Porthos's thigh. Porthos dropped a hand to Aramis's leg and hauled it up higher. Neither one showed any sign of hearing Athos.

"You two are responsible for the mess that is going to happen, I hope you know that," Athos said aloud, knowing very well that they weren't going to hear him. "I accept zero responsibility for this," He added, moving silently around the kitchen to put lids onto pots, to stick spoons into dishes, to attempt to fix whatever had already gone wrong.

After he'd managed to turn the potatoes into something resembling lumpy oatmeal, Athos gave up. There was no way on God's green earth that he'd be able to scramble and fix what was already inedible. He dropped the pot of potatoes into the sink with a loud thunk, turned off all remaining sources of heat and left the kitchen.

They could always order take out.

 

 

 


	10. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fire alarm, a snow shower and mugs of hot chocolate.

It was three am when the fire alarm squawked, sending Porthos shooting out of bed and tripping over the sheets. One can never know with apartment buildings, whether the alarms are set off by accident or by an honest-to-God fire, so he grabbed the sweatshirt he'd abandoned before tumbling into bed. Porthos tugged it on over his curls and shoved his arms through the sleeves before darting out into the kitchen to grab his keys and phone. He left his apartment then, sleepily fumbling down the staircase and out into the parking lot to join a small crowd of his fellow tennants.

"Is there _actually_ a fire?" He asked, turning to the nearest person in the crowd. He's greeted with quite a sight -- the man he spoke to had dark curly bedhead, a meticulously kept beard and, Porthos noticed as his glance moved downward, was only wearing boxers. The man was rather ridiculously attractive. In an almost unfair way, actually. Porthos stared at him for a moment, his mouth open.

It was snowing out. Quite heavily, too. Snowflakes were sticking in his hair, slowly dripping down the back of his neck once they melted. Porthos was shivering in his sweatpants and sweatshirt combo -- he couldn't quite imagine what the cold felt like when one was mostly naked.

"Uhhhh..I d-don't know," The man answered, wrapping his arms around himself, and shrugging. He turned at the last minute and actually looked at Porthos. A change took over his face -- instead of looking wholly miserable, the man looked interested. A low smile broke out over his face as his eyes moved up and down over Porthos's body before settling back on his face. "'M Aramis," He added, sticking a hand out from under his crossed arms.

Porthos took the offered hand and shook it. "Porthos. Apartment 3B," He answered, with a smile of his own.

Aramis's eyebrows shot up. "I'm 4B!" He all but shouted.

Porthos laughed. "How've we not met then?" Seriously -- how had they not met? He'd have noticed if he was living next to an actual supermodel.

Aramis answered with a shrug and then let out a soft whine as he bounced up and down. The cold must be getting to him -- Porthos was surprised it had taken this long. Aramis bounced again, rubbing his hands up and down on his arms trying to get heat back.

Porthos watched with a frown. "Want my sweatshirt?" He offered, grabbing the hem and getting ready to tug it back over his head. He'd be cold without it, but it wasn't like he'd be outside in the snow in just his boxers like _some people_.

"Oh, no, no. I couldn't take that away from you. You stay warm. I'm the idiot who came out without grabbing a coat...." Aramis answered, though the look on his face was rather wistful as he stared at Porthos's large sweatshirt.

Porthos whipped said sweatshirt up and over his head, holding the lumpy half inside out mess towards Aramis. "Take it -- I think you're turning blue..."

Aramis gave a halfhearted groan before grabbing it out of Porthos's hands, deftly turning it right side out and pulling it on over his head in one smooth motion. It was much too big for him -- Porthos's shoulders were much wider, but Aramis let out a pleased noise as he tucked his hands inside the sleeves.

"Better?" Porthos asked, grinning wide.

"Much, much better," Aramis said, looking through his eyelashes up at Porthos. The sight hit Porthos like a punch to the gut. "Thank you." Aramis added, huddling into the sweatshirt's warmth.

"Welcome," Porthos said, shrugging a now bare shoulder. He'd have given Aramis his pants, too, but that would have solved nothing because then _he'd_ be out in the snow in his underwear.

They stood together in the cold, watching the snow fall steadily from the sky. It landed in their hair, and on their eyelashes. It would have been a beautiful sight, had they been inside where it was warm. Instead, they were stuck in the frozen wasteland of the parking lot while firefighters checked the building thoroughly.

The all clear came fifteen minutes later -- by then, Porthos was bouncing up and down alongside his newly discovered neighbor, shivering shirtless in the snow. A fireman came out from between the double doors, waving everyone back inside.

Porthos shoved Aramis forward, following on his heels. Once they were safely in the lobby, Porthos turned back towards him, an unsure look on his face.

"I know it's late and you're cold and tired, probably, but uh...I make a great cup of hot chocolate?" Porthos offered, tilting his head like a puppy as he asked. "Would you...um...want to join me for one?"

He watched as Aramis tilted his head to match. The other man grinned wildly, nodding so quickly his curls went flying into his face. "I'd love to," Aramis answered, beaming at him. He turned on his heel towards the staircase.

Porthos followed, laughing.

They made it up the stairs in record time -- Aramis darting ahead only for Porthos to hurry up behind him. They slid into the hallway, screeching to a stop in front of Porthos's door. Aramis glanced at the door across the hallway -- his own. He turned back to Porthos and then shrugged. There really was no explanation for why they had never met before. They were right across from each other!

"Alright, c'mon. I'll start the milk on the stove. Make yourself at home," Porthos said as he opened the door, standing back so Aramis could enter before him.

Aramis entered, eyes wide as he took in his surroundings. The apartment was definitely masculine -- dark colors with barely any art on the walls. There was one picture hung by the door -- Porthos with his arm around someone who was glaring daggers at the camera. Aramis let out a soft laugh at the sight before moving further into the room. He made a circuit around the living room, touching at small things on tables and glancing at the magazines strewn about.

Once he was done looking, though, Aramis plopped himself on a stool and watched Porthos behind the stove. It wasn't every day that a shirtless man made him hot chocolate at 3:30 in the morning. He had to enjoy the sight while he had it.

"What makes your hot chocolate so great?" He asked, teasingly. He let his chin rest on his hand.

"It's a secret," Porthos answered, barely looking up from the stove. He was stirring chocolate into the milk now, watching it carefully. He dumped was suspiciously looking like cinnamon into the mix. He glanced up then, smiling hugely at his guest. "It'll be ready in a second. You warm enough now?" He asked, concerned.

Aramis nodded. "Yes -- it's nice and warm in here," He answered, smiling.

Porthos flashed a relieved look at him before grabbing mugs from his shelf. He set them down on his counter and carefully distributed hot chocolate to them. He passed one to Aramis. "Careful now, that's really hot. I'd wait a little to taste it, yeah?" Porthos cautioned, wrapping his hand around the remaining mug. The heat from the chocolate radiated through the ceramic and warmed his hands. The chill from being outside was mostly gone now, but it was sticking around in his extremities -- his feet and hands were still slightly numb.

Aramis ignored Porthos's warning in favor of getting warmer. He brought the mug to his lips and took a tentative taste. It was hot, but not scorching. The taste, however, the taste was exquisite. He couldn't place all the flavors, but it didn't matter. The whole combination was delicious. He tipped the mug further and took an actual drink. He swallowed, dropping the mug back down on the counter.

"That's the best hot chocolate I've ever had. Ever," Aramis murmured, licking his lips to get any leftovers from his sip.

Porthos stared at him, a proud smile slowly growing across his lips. "Really?" He asked, his deep laugh taking over. "I did tell you I made good hot chocolate...guess you didn't believe me," He added, grinning.

"Mmm, I have to admit, I was expecting the packets..." Aramis admitted with a sheepish expression.

Porthos looked offended for a moment. "I would _never_ ," He said, shaking his head. In fact -- there was a box of the packets deep in the back of his cabinet. You know, for hot chocolate emergencies, when one couldn't wait for actual chocolate to melt.

"You'll have to give me the recipe," Aramis said, with a small smile as he brought the mug back up to his mouth. He took another drink, savoring the taste on his tongue before swallowing.

Porthos shook his head, a sly look across his features. "Nope. It's a secret," He said, shrugging as if there was nothing he could do about it. "If you want a cup....you'll just have to come over."

Aramis raised his eyebrows. "What a hardship _that_ will be," He murmured, trying his best for deadpan. Instead, giggles soaked through the words until the last one was quite hard to hear.

Porthos laughed at him. "I hope you'll come over soon, then," He added, raising his mug towards Aramis before bringing it up to his own mouth. He took a deep drink, eyes never leaving Aramis's face.

Aramis studied him for a moment before answering.

"Definitely."

 


	11. Secret Santa Gift Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is totally halfhearted, I'm so sorry.

"Um...thanks?" Athos said, holding up the ceramic mug that had been inside the box. He was trying very hard to be thankful, but it was difficult, considering the gift he'd been given by his Secret Santa. Not that there was a lot of mystery in who it was. They were only doing it in their little group -- Aramis, Porthos, d'Artagnan and Constance. That meant one of them thought it was appropriate to give him a cracked mug that read WORLD'S GREATEST DAD.

Athos looked up from his present and saw Aramis trying his best to choke back laughter. There went _that_ conundrum. He put the mug on the floor, turned his head towards d'Artagnan and raised an eyebrow. The boy looked way too excited to open his present. How sad it would be when he realized it was only going to be a disappointment.

That was the thing with their Secret Santa tradition -- no one ever gave good gifts. They were almost always shitty thrift store finds. That was the "fun" bit that Aramis had thought up. Athos didn't understand it, but he participated to avoid the murderous glare Aramis would have thrown at him otherwise.

d'Artagnan tore the paper off the box with a kind of fury only known to small children on Christmas. He ripped the top off like a monster, throwing it onto the wrapping paper pile without looking. He removed from the box, a Troll doll. It had bright pink hair and a pink fake gem for a bellybutton. There was marker drawn all over it, like a small child had gotten ahold of it and let their artistic side shine.

d'Artagnan stared at it for a moment, blinking only once before looking to stare at the group around him. "....Thanks?" He said, looking very concerned. Athos kept his mouth shut without too much effort. He'd found the doll in the first store he'd gone into -- a Good Will that was literally around the corner and down two blocks. The doll had cost him a whopping thirty-five cents.

Constance got a headless Barbie doll, apparently from Porthos, if the barely repressed laughter was any indication. Porthos got a set of plates with horrifyingly ugly renditions of wildlife, assumingly from d'Artagnan, who looked way too proud of his purchase. Aramis received the ugliest quilted vest Athos had ever laid eyes upon. Of course, he put it on right away and wore it proudly. Constance watched with a look of pride to match d'Artagnan's.

Athos didn't get it, but everyone was having fun so who was he to judge?

Someone washed his mug and handed it back to him full of hot chocolate. Somewhat reluctantly, Athos drank out of it. Surprisingly, the hot chocolate was actually decent, not from a packet. Must have been Porthos's work -- he was the only one of them who took the time to make it properly. Either way, Athos drank the rest of it, before setting his new mug down on one of the side tables.

At least the Secret Santa bit was over now. Everyone would get their proper gifts later, the ones that had actual meaning to them. Those were things he had actually dispaired over, unsure of what to buy for his friends. Gifts were not something he enjoyed recieving. Not when someone saw right through him enough to get him something he actually enjoyed or wanted. It was awkward for him.

But...he struggled through it as best as he could.

"WE'RE WATCHING FROSTY NOW!" Aramis shouted from the couch, and Athos left worrying about gifts for later. Frosty was a fairly decent cartoon -- worth going to sit next to his ridiculous friends for, anyway.


	12. Unwrapping Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short again today due to last minute babysitting duties.

Gifts were handed out one by one, until each person had a small pile in front of them. Surprisingly, Athos had the biggest pile, though he was unsure if it was because he had bigger boxes or if there were actually more gifts. Either way, he was uncomfortable with the idea.

Aramis, on the other hand, had barely waited for the remaining gifts to be dealt out before tearing at his presents. When d'Artagnan had the last box in his hands, Aramis ripped the bow off the top of his box and smashed it on the top of his messy curls. It barely clung to his hair, the stickiness of the glue diminished from being stuck to the paper.

Once the bow was in place, Aramis tore through the paper like a fiend. A small cloud of shiny red and white stripes clouded around him until there was nothing but a bare white box in his lap. Aramis didn't subscribe to the "save the wrapping paper" ideal that some people did. The point of wrapping presents was to make sure someone had fun actually getting to them! _Obviously_.

Porthos followed in Aramis's example -- he got his hands on the largest box in his pile and clawed at the paper until there was a glittery mess surrounding his legs. He wasted no time with trying to peel tape back or trying to be neat. Why be neat when you could enjoy destroying something that was totally socially acceptable to destroy?

d'Artagnan was just like a child when it came to getting into his presents. He found a way in -- yanked at the taped downsides until they were free and then ripped everything off in a fantastic large motion. The wrapping paper actually stayed in large chunks that slowly drifted to the ground beside him. It was almost beautiful as the light caught the glitter just right and sent it sparkling.

Constance attempted to be neat -- she tried her best to keep the paper in one huge foldable piece, but an accidental rip sent her neatness out the window. The second the rip formed in the snowflake covered paper, Constance grabbed at an end and tore it to pieces until all she had left was a blank cardboard box.

And last but not least, Athos started on one of his presents. He took his time on the paper, unfolding it gently and setting it to the side. He unpeeled tape, pulling it off and sticking it on his own thigh. Once the paper was fully off, he actually folded the paper back up before opening the box to see what he'd been given. He'd put off looking at any gift he'd been given longer if possible, but usually there was no choice in the matter.

 _Usually_ , people were waiting to see his reaction.

 _Usually_ , that meant he had to let down his walls a bit. Either that or fake a reaction. But seeing as these were his friends, his actual friends he enjoyed being around...the walls would come down.

At least a little.


	13. Building a Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snowman is built at a vacation cabin. Porthos and Athos get a little middle-schoolish towards the end. Like the adults they clearly are.

The view was as perfect as a Christmas card -- snow coated the ground like frosting, while it still fell daintily from the sky, glittering on its way downward. The three of them looked on with varying degrees of happiness. Aramis and Porthos looked thrilled at the concept of staying in a cabin or the weekend, while Athos looked as if Porthos was going to have to haul him inside.

It hadn't taken them very long to explore the cabin -- there were only three rooms to it -- a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen/living room combo thing. It was a small cozy space that they were no doubt going to put to good use. They'd packed their things away in the bedroom, shoving their bags in the closet before clambering back out into the living room.

Athos had barely sat down on the mangled looking couch before Aramis spoke up.

"Let's build a snowman!" He said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Porthos stood next to him, watching Aramis with an amused look. Something about Christmas brought out the little kid in Aramis -- back at home, the house was decorated to the nines with every sort of shiny glittery mess that could be found. Athos had taken a bite out of a sandwich the other day only to find that somehow glitter had gotten into the bread. Not a lot, but...it was definitely twinkling at him.

They would have glitter in their things for months to come, Athos had realized then.

"A snowman?" Athos asked, raising a single eyebrow from his spot in the corner of the couch. They had just been the car for five hours. All he wanted to do was lay down on this couch and let his body unkink from being all bent and squished in the backseat of the car.

"Yeah! It's snowing properly here so we should...you know, make use of that," Aramis explained, waving his hands in front of him as he spoke. He was looking at Athos with big round, pleading eyes.

"Well, you enjoy that," Athos murmured, closing his eyes and leaning his head back onto the couch. Porthos and Aramis were perfectly capable of building a snowman by themselves. It wasn't exactly a hard task.

" _Athooooos_ ," Aramis whined, and Athos could see the exact expression that he was no doubt making without even opening his eyes. It would be a ridiculous thing with huge eyes and a pulled down mouth. There might even be stomping involved -- little-kid-christmas-Aramis tended to stomp when he wanted something.

"Leave 'em alone, babe, we can make one by ourselves," Porthos said, tugging on Aramis's sleeve. He took a step towards where they left their coats and boots. "Put your coat on and stuff, alright?" He pushed Aramis towards the bright green monstrosity that was his parka. Once Aramis was pulling on his jacket and shoving his hands into his mittens, Porthos turned back towards Athos.

The couch dipped down as Porthos set his weight onto one of the cushions, and Athos opened his eyes. "Yes?" He asked, a small sigh escaping from between his lips.

"You could come out and help with the snowman, you know. Wouldn't kill you," Porthos practically whispered, mostly so Aramis wouldn't come over and start whining again. They were all tired and their emotions were all a little keyed up from being stuck in the car all day. He didn't want a fight to start on the first day of their mini-vacation. It would ruin the whole weekend. Porthos brought his voice down yet another notch before adding, "You know Aramis just wanted to spend time with us this weekend. He...he loves us, y'know that. So...just...uh...think about that?"

"I just wanted to lay down for a bit," Athos answered, blinking at him.

Porthos gave him a disbelieving look. "And then you'll come out?" He asked, sounding very much like Athos had very little choice in the matter.

Another sigh was heaved out from Athos's chest. "Yes, fine," He answered, closing his eyes again. "Go start without me, I'll be out soon," He offered, settling into the couch in hopes that Porthos would leave. The weight was lifted from the cushions as he did, and Athos heard the door shut a few minutes later.

Once outside, Porthos started rolling around a ball of snow for the base of the snowman. Aramis was busying himself with trying to find two equal sized sticks for arms. He already had a nice sized rock for the nose, and two pieces of charcoal for eyes. He was determined it would be the most perfect snowman ever built. Porthos had less lofty goals. He was aiming for "a snowman."

Porthos rolled a large globe of snow towards the middle of the yard and fell over it, breathing heavy. "Babe, here's the snowman's ass," He gasped for breath before laughing at his own stupid joke.

Aramis threw a lump of of snow at Porthos -- it hit him in the arm with a _spiff_ and fell to the ground. Porthos flipped him the bird and continued to lay across the bottom ball of the snowman. Aramis, however, hurried around the yard with another ball of snow, forming the second layer.

Once it was deemed sizable enough, Aramis hauled it towards Porthos. "Get up," He said, kicking at Porthos's shoes. "I have the next one," He added.

Porthos rolled off the snow and clambered to his feet. Aramis plopped the ball of snow onto the other one and stood back a ways to admire his work. "Good. Now..the head," Aramis instructed, waving his hand like a king for Porthos to get at it.

Porthos shot him a dirty look but dutifully rolled the snow around the yard until a small roundish thing was formed. He dropped it on top of Aramis's and moved back to stand next to Aramis.

"It's crooked," came from the porch of the cabin.

Both of their heads whipped around at the sound. Athos stood all bundled up, looking more excited about being outside than he probably felt.

" _You_ come fix it, then," Porthos retaliated, flicking a hand towards the snowman.

Athos sauntered down the steps like a prince and stomped through the yard to adjust the head on the snowman. He twisted it, pulled on it a bit and then stepped back to join their line up.

"I think the ball's just crooked," Athos murmured, tilting his head as he looked at it.

"Your balls are crooked," Porthos said, shoving Athos's shoulder. Athos swayed with the movement, righting himself quickly.

"Well, you'd know, wouldn't you?' Athos shot back, a mischievous grin slowly appearing on his face.

Porthos bent at the waist, scooped up snow and shoved it down the back of Athos's jacket.

 

 


	14. Receiving Horrible Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one doesn't follow within the same universe as the others, just so no one thinks that. Just in case, y'know?

"...Isn't this the plant from the bathroom?" Athos asked, turning the pot and plant around in his hands. The fern wiggled with the movement. He sat it down on the ground in front of him and flashed a look at Aramis.

"It might be," Aramis answered, his lips pulling downwards as he looked toward the ceiling.

"Did you forget...about...gifts? _You_?"

"Nope," Aramis finally flicked his eyes towards Athos, a nice grin shifting onto his mouth. He shoved another box towards Athos. "Open that one, now," Aramis added, with a nod towards the gift.

Athos apprehensively took it from the ground and took his time unwrapping it. There was no ripping of paper, only peeling it carefully off and folding it. Once the snowflakes were gone from the box, Athos pulled at the flaps to reveal...

"This is a picture of us," Athos stated, holding the frame. He waved it at Aramis and finished, "From my dresser."

"Sure is," Aramis answered, tilting his head as he smiled.

"Do you want to explain why you're giving me things I already own?"

"You never like what we buy you, so we...improvised," Aramis explained, with a short laugh.

"You thought you'd just give me things you knew I liked...because I already own them?" Athos murmured, staring down at the "gifts" he'd be "given."

" _Aramis_ thought he'd do that," Porthos piped in, peeling his eyes away from the football game on the television. A bright white smile flashed as he grinned at Athos. He pointed towards a messily wrapped package under the tree. "Try that one, yeah?"

Athos huffed out was probably supposed to be a long-suffering sigh and yanked the gift towards him. He took the usually amount of time getting it open, but this time around, he was pleasantly surprised at what the box contained.

It was a simple dark green sweater -- one that he was rather familiar with. It wasn't one of his -- it was one of Porthos's. It was the sweater Athos almost always stole out of Porthos's side of the closet when he got cold. (It was a rare occurance for him to get chilly, but when he did, he turned into ice.) The green wool hung loose on him, but Athos would have sworn it was the warmest item of clothing in the house.

Now, he supposed, it was his. A warm feeling spread through his limbs -- Porthos had taken Aramis's idea and perfected it. Instead of giving him something of his, Porthos had given him something of his own that he already knew he liked.

Athos gave Porthos a thankful look -- the words were hard for him to get out on a normal day and this...this was a touching gift given to him by one of the few people he deemed worthy enough to struggle through love for.

But Porthos never forced him to emote if he was having a hard time of it, and he didn't disappoint tonight. Porthos simply smiled back at him, nodding his head once when he saw the expression on Athos's face.

He sat quietly the rest of the night, leaning back against the couch as he watched his loves present each other with increasingly ridiculous gifts. Aramis had given Porthos the remote to the TV in the bedroom ("So what's where that went -- I knew I couldn't find it this mornin'!") and Porthos had given Aramis a pair of his sweatpants. They probably wouldn't fit right, but that was probably the reason Aramis wanted them. Porthos had also given Aramis three of the washcloths from the kitchen. ("So you remember to wash the dishes once in a while.") Aramis had thrown them at Porthos's head in response.

They ended the night on the couch under the blanket, curled around each other, the torn (and folded) wrapping paper littering the floor.


	15. Sleigh Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this wasn't up yesterday -- I'm not feeling super well so the quality of this isn't up to par and, obviously, wasn't posted on the right day.

"I've got the hot chocolate, you got the blankets?" Porthos asked, popping his head into the hallway from the kitchen. He wiggled the thermos in his hand.

"How many blankets do we need? The ride's only supposed to last an hour...?" Athos asked, blinking. He was holding the blanket from the couch and one of the thin fleece ones they kept in the guest bedroom. He was fairly sure that they weren't going to need the second one -- Aramis had made sure he'd gotten the best quality fleece for the couch blanket. It was thick and plush, and absolutely the warmest thing in the house. No doubt it would hold out the winter chill while they were outside for an hour.

"Do you realize how cold it is outside?" Aramis asked, emerging from their bedroom looking about three times wider than he did when he'd gone in. Bits and pieces of various sweaters were sticking out from collars and wrists. The top layer, however, was bright crimson red.

Porthos's attention shifted from Athos to Aramis when the bright color appeared in his periphery. "Is that my sweater?" He flicked a finger towards Aramis's middle.

Aramis crossed his arms over his chest (or tried to) and nodded. "It was the only one that would fit over all the others, so I'm borrowing it," He answered, turning on his heel and heading towards the front closet, no doubt to add yet another layer.

Eventually, the three of them managed to pile on sweaters and coats and boots and head out the door. It took much longer than any of them would like to admit. There was a lot of stealing sweaters from Porthos and digging extra mittens out of bins in the closet. In the end, they'd managed to both dress for the weather and stretch out almost all of Porthos's winter wear.

The meet up location for the sleigh rides was in the middle of the city park, which meant they had to park near the park (ha) and walk the rest of the way.

Somehow, Porthos had ended up carrying everything. The blankets were thrown over his shoulder, while both of his hands were wrapped around the thermos. Aramis was clinging to Athos's hand, who looked surprisingly pleased with it.

"Are we there yet?" Aramis asked, for once in his life not whining.

"Do you see a sleigh?" Athos asked, waving his free hand in front of them. Aramis shook his head, but squeezed Athos's hand. Athos huffed out a small laugh and squeezed back.

Porthos ignored them, followed the sidewalk and turned the corner.

The sleigh was huge -- much bigger than he'd thought it would be. The body was painted a beautiful red, the paint's shine almost reflective in the dim light of the park. There were four beautiful black horses hooked up to it, and once he'd gotten closer, Porthos could see the jingle bells attached to their harnesses.

He heard the moment his loves saw the sleigh. There was a stero gasp from behind him and Porthos half-turned to see Aramis staring wide-eyed at the sight in front of them.

"It's beautiful," He whispered, coming up to stand next to Porthos, dragging Athos with him.

"It's giagantic," Athos commented, eyes running from the end of the sleigh all the way to the lead horse. "How much did you say this cost?" He asked, looking up at Porthos with concerned eyes.

"I'm not tellin', it's my treat to you both so don't worry about it," Porthos answered with a flash of a grin.

Athos stared after him, shaking his head minutely as he watched. There was no way the sleigh was normally used for just three people per ride -- the seats could hold probably about twelve. How had Porthos managed to book it just for them?

Porthos moved closer to the sleigh, waved to the driver and hopped right up into the back. He set the hot chocolate down on one of the padded benches and turned back to help them both up into the sleigh.

Aramis grasped Porthos's hand and yanked himself up, pausing only to kiss Porthos thoroughly before plopping down on the seat. Athos tried to hop into the sleigh, balanced awkwardly, began to fall but was saved at the last minute by Porthos seizing his arm and hauling him in.

Porthos sat in the middle, letting Athos and Aramis tuck themselves under his arms, where it was warm. The blankets were wrapped around their legs tightly, not letting any of the ice in the wind through.

The driver turned to make sure they were settled, yelled out a HA, flicked the reins...and then they were off. 


	16. Making Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha -snorts- makin' myself laugh.

"Why do we even _have_ this many sprinkles?" Athos asks, voice still rough with sleep. He moves around Porthos to pour himself a cup from the already made coffee. Turning just slightly, he opens the microwave and shoves the mug in. He waits somewhat patiently by it for it to ding.

"You know _exactly_ why," Porthos answers, without raising his head from his task.

Athos peers over his shoulder to get a closer look at Porthos's work.

"Are those _hearts_?"

"Aramis handed me the shapes he wanted, so I'm just doin' what I'm asked," Porthos explains with a shrug. He shoves a cookie cutter down into the dough again, shaking it out over the baking sheet. The heart flops to the pan with a flapping sort of sound.

"And where _is_ he?" Athos asks, yanking the mug out of the microwave just as it dings.

"Went out to go get icing and possibly more sprinkles."

Push, flap, push, flap. Athos watches the unbaked cookies fall to the sheet as he drinks his coffee.

" _More_ sprinkles?"

"Apparently what we have isn't good enough anymore," Porthos said, laughing. He switched cookie cutters to one that looked like a small Christmas tree.

They had long ago decided that Aramis was not allowed to use the cookie cutters himself. The few times he had been allowed to, they'd ended up with way, way too many cookies. Porthos was now in charge of cutting them out and baking them. This way they were actually edible and not overwheming in number. Aramis was, however, allowed to decorate them to his heart's content. Which explained the millions of sprinkles and twelve different colors of icing they usually ended up with.

"Have you gotten any baked yet?" Athos asked, looking around the kitchen for ones that looked already done.

"Behind the toaster," Porthos answers, looking up to smile at Athos.

Athos returned the smile, though his did not match Porthos's in intensity. He reached behind the toster to pick up the first cookie his fingers touched. He pulled it up and blinked at it.

"Is this a _penis_ cookie?" Athos asks, waving it at Porthos.

Porthos let out a great huffaw of laughter and nodded.

"Aramis ordered the cutter off Amazon a few weeks ago," he answers, still laughing. Athos pulls the plate of cookies out from behind the toaster to see there's at least ten more penis shaped cookies. A sigh escapes from his lips.

" _Why_?" Athos asks, very much looking as if he didn't actually want an answer to his own question.

" _Well_ , you know him...." Porthos starts, tilting his head.

"I do and now I wish I didn't," Athos replied, dunking the cookie in his hand into his coffee and biting off the tip.

Porthos watched him with an eyebrow raised before turning back to the job Aramis had given him.

Aramis returned an hour later, bags laden with eight _more_ different kinds of sprinkles and three new boxes of food coloring. The cookies were decorated over the course of the day, the icing designs getting more and more pornographic as the day went on.


	17. New Holiday Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This sucks again because I've been ill and my brain isn't 100% awesome yet.

"So pick a movie already!" Porthos shouted, not in anger. He was sprawled in the corner of the couch, taking up as much space as he could. Athos was curled into the other corner, feet tucked up underneath him. Aramis, however, was standing in front of the bookcase that held their DVD collection. Hands on his hips, he kept tilting his head one way and then the other. There were over 200 DVDs on the shelves in front of him, and still he couldn't pick a title to watch.

"It's been ten minutes, Aramis, just pick one," Athos murmured, peering up from the pages of the book that was open in his lap. He was slightly more interested in the idea of a movie then he let on, but he would still pretend to read throughout it.

"But I can't just _pick_ one!" Aramis said, flailing his arms out towards the shelves. He moved closer towards them and stared at the titles.

"Close your eyes, hold your hand out and the first one you touch is the one we're watching," Porthos offered, flicking a hand towards Aramis and the movies in front of him.

Aramis threw a glare over his shoulder, but a second later, did the exact thing that Porthos suggested. Eyes tightly shut, Aramis reached a hand out and ran his fingers over the edges. moved them up and down the massive amounts of movies before stopping. He carefully opened his eyes, peeking out with one before opening both.

"Mean Girls?" Aramis said, tugging the DVD out from the shelf. He held it against his chest and turned to model the selection to his loves.

"Fine, _whatever_ , put it in, will you? I'll be grey by the time we actually start _watchin_ ' the damn thing," Porthos answered, a smile bright on his face.

Athos merely raised an eyebrow and went right back to reading the same sentence for yet another time. He'd read the damn line about three times already and it wasn't really sinking in.

Aramis slammed the DVD into the player, grabbed the remote and hopped over the coffee table to curl himself up in Porthos's lap. Porthos shifted to accomodate him, slipping an arm around Aramis's waist and tugging him into a better position.

The movie started after a few previews. They settled into the couch -- Aramis and Porthos watched the movie, while Athos read. Aramis quoted the movie back to the television while Porthos laughed loudly at both him and the movie.

Athos tried his best to ignore them, but ultimately ended up just staring at the page in his lap for an hour and a half.

As soon as the credits started to roll, Aramis raised his head from Porthos's chest.

"Wanna watch another?" He asked, blinking at the sudden brightness of the menu screen.

"Sure?" Porthos answered, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and smothering an yawn into his bicep.

The same procedure was used again -- Aramis wasn't the best at picking movies whenever they deemed to watch one -- and this time around, Some Like It Hot was chosen.

"We should do this every year!" Aramis grinned, bouncing in front of the television. He shoved the DVD into the player and once again jumped over the table to get back into Porthos's lap.

"We do watch movies every year...like...once a week, actually," Athos broke in, lifting his eyes from the same line again. "This isn't anything new..."

"No, I mean...I mean," Aramis started, shifting in Porthos's lap enough to elbow him in the stomach. Porthos shoved him to the side, shooting a glare at Aramis. "I mean, picking random movies..." Aramis trailed off. "Yeah?" He blinked, turning to look at Porthos, who was still glaring at him. Aramis pouted before turning back towards Athos.

Athos gave him a look. "Sure?"

Aramis beamed at him, and snuggled properly into Porthos's bulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus a new tradition was born. Ahaha.


End file.
